


I'll Be Good

by Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 21:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12756738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction/pseuds/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction
Summary: You’re gone and Bucky’s past and failures come back to haunt him.





	I'll Be Good

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Bucky x Reader
> 
> Warnings: angst, blood, violence

[Originally posted by theseromaniansarecrazy](https://tmblr.co/ZdaB2v22BezYt)

The breeze swept through the trees, dancing with Bucky’s hair. He moved to brush it out of his face, but something stopped the movement.

He glanced down at his hand and was surprised to find there was someone else’s fingers intertwined in his own. His gaze traveled up until it landed on her face. She was smiling up at him, love clear in her eyes. Bucky studied her every feature; from her lips to her gorgeous, shining eyes to her hair which framed her face just so. It was odd, though. Every time he blinked her clothing or makeup subtly shifted and for some reason he didn’t seem to care.

“Hey, Baby,” she murmured, voice sounding far away even though she was right next to him. “Do you wanna head back?” she asked kindly. It was like she was talking to him through a door.

It was then that he finally noticed his surroundings. A park? It looked like a park. Maybe Central Park? He looked around, confused. When had they gotten there?

“Bucky?” she asked, her head tilting to the side as she gazed at him. His gaze snapped back to her and suddenly the scene shifted.

They were in her tiny apartment, sitting on the lumpy black leather couch together. Her lips were on his and for some reason the feeling made him want to cry, even as his heart soared with happiness. She was warm and comforting beneath his fingertips and stole his breath away with each lingering caress and kiss she graced his skin with.

“Why did you let them hurt me?” she asked.

Bucky’s blood froze in his veins, breath leaving him as though someone had punched him in the gut or dumped freezing water over him. His gaze flicked down to her, eyes widening in horror. No, she was safe. Right in front of him. _Safe_.

Then why couldn’t he breathe? Why was his entire being racked with guilt?

“I thought you loved me. Why didn’t you save me?” she asked, tone almost devoid of emotion.

He barely registered the words as they left his mouth. “I’m so sorry, Babydoll. I tried. I tried so hard. I never wanted you to get hurt,” he despaired, unspoken plea for her to understand in his voice. He needed her forgiveness, but for what? He couldn’t remember-

He blinked and when he opened his eyes everything was different again. It was dark; shadows hung around the edges of his vision. He was in an alley. It was familiar somehow, yet unremarkable in any way except-

Men littered the ground, some dead, some not. He didn’t feel his feet carry him forward, but the alley passed by him nonetheless.

He didn’t want to make it to the end of the alley, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know what was waiting for him at the end, but he knew he didn’t want to see whatever it was. Whispers tickled his ear; the ghosts of his past come back to haunt him. He hated it. He didn’t want to hear them. He _always_ heard them.

He stepped in something wet and looked down. The sight below brought him to his knees, heart shattering into irreparable pieces all over again.

“Bucky…” she said weakly, hand reaching up for him, soaked in a pool of her own blood. He cradled her in his arms, screaming for someone to help. Anyone. Anyone at all… but no one seemed to hear him. He screamed until he was hoarse. Her breathing was getting weaker by the second.

He looked down at her, heart beating frantically, panic overtaking every sense. “Stay with me, please, Babydoll. I’ll get help, I promise-”

When she spoke again, her tone was colder than he’d ever heard it; full of the hatred he knew he deserved. “I loved you, Bucky. But you couldn’t save me. I’ll never forgive you.”

* * *

Bucky was torn from his nightmare, sitting up in his bed suddenly, struggling to untangle himself from his sweaty sheets as his chest heaved, his body at the height of its flight or fight instincts. He stared blankly at the wall while his mind raced.

He dreamt about her every night. His (Y/N). How he couldn’t save her from those who would do her harm because of him. Because of his past. Because of his present. _Because of him_.

His hair was plastered to his neck and face with sweat, the sheets of his bed sticking to him uncomfortably as his pulse returned to a non-heart attack-inducing level.

The tiny amount of moonlight sneaking in the window was enough light to allow him to see his room. He looked at the empty spot on the bed next to him, heart twisting painfully with guilt and sadness. How long had it been since she’d slept next to him, tucked up against his body so perfectly it was like they were puzzle pieces made for each other? Too long. The spot next to him had been cold and empty for too long, her warmth no longer there to comfort him when the nightmares came.

No, instead every time he closed his eyes his failure replayed itself in his dreams. Again and again, as though living through it and every other sin he’d ever committed every waking moment of his life wasn’t enough.

He shoved the blankets and sheets off of himself and walked to the bathroom; a trip he knew so well he could have made it blindfolded. He closed the door behind him and flicked the light on, wincing as his eyes adjusted to the light.

 

> _I thought I saw the devil_  
>  _This morning_  
>  _Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue_  
>  _With the warning_  
>  _To help me see myself clearer_  
>  _I never meant to start a fire_  
>  _I never meant to make you bleed_  
>  _I’ll be a better man today_

The man in the mirror was a horrible mix of himself and The Asset. His face was emotionless like the Soldier’s but the tortured look in his eyes was all Bucky. His bare chest shimmered in the fluorescent light, sweat covering every inch of muscle.

Suddenly, he couldn’t take it. His mind had barely finished processing the thought before his fist collided with the mirror, sending shards flying across the expansive bathroom. Some ricocheted back and hit him, slicing through the skin on his arm and chest with ease. He didn’t even feel it.

When he’d met her all that time ago, he knew he was a goner immediately. Her laugh, her smile, her voice. The way she said certain words, her sense of humor, the way she treated him like he wasn’t a monster; like he was just a man. A man who deserved love. He didn’t deserve her for a second, and apparently the universe agreed.

He knew he was a monster, no matter how much she and Steve had said otherwise. He should have known better than to try and get close to her.

He’d do anything to have her back, though. He tried every day to be the man she’d thought he was. He still tried, even after…

 

> _I’ll be good, I’ll be good_  
>  _And I’ll love the world, like I should_  
>  _Yeah, I’ll be good, I’ll be good_  
>  _For all of the time_  
>  _That I never could_

He shook his head, trying to force the thought out. He would fall apart right then and there if he said the words, even in his own head.

He turned the faucet on, splashing cold water on his face and neck. The water helped ground him a bit but didn’t stop the caustic emotions swirling around in his head, polluting is mind and body alike. His metal arm flashed in the light and he stared at it, bile rising in his throat. It was a constant reminder of everything he’d ever done or failed to do. He hated it. Hated it with his entire being.

But he needed it. He needed it to help others. Needed to prove it could be used for more than evil and failing those closest to him. It was a reminder and his purpose. He stumbled backwards away from the sink, water still running, and sunk to the floor. The cool tiles soothed his flaming skin and he rested his head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling despondently.

 

> _My past has tasted bitter_  
>  _For years now_  
>  _So I wield an iron fist_  
>  _Grace is just weakness_  
>  _Or so I’ve been told_  
>  _I’ve been cold, I’ve been merciless_  
>  _But the blood on my hands scares me to death_  
>  _Maybe I’m waking up today_

He glanced at his watch. 6:28 am. It was early, but it didn’t much matter when he visited you anymore, did it? He sat on the floor for a while longer, gathering the energy to get up and face the day. By the time he was leaving the compound it was 7:42 am.

* * *

[Originally posted by allthisherostuff](https://tmblr.co/ZqX21h26YOMuy)

_(Y/N) (Y/L/N)_. He read those two words over and over again, guilt twisting his gut. He wiped the tears from his cheeks with his right hand, flowers for you clutched in his metal hand. He didn’t want to be sad around you, even if you couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

 

> _For all of the light that I shut out_  
>  _For all of the innocent things that I doubt_  
>  _For all of the bruises I’ve caused and the tears_  
>  _For all of the things that I’ve done all these years_  
>  _And all_  
>  _Yeah, for all of the sparks that I stomped out_  
>  _For all of the perfect things that I doubt_
> 
> _I’ll be good, I’ll be good_   
>  _And I’ll love the world, like I should_   
>  _Yeah, I’ll be good, I’ll be good_   
>  _For all of the times_   
>  _I never could, oh, oh-oh_   
>  _Oh, oh_   
>  _Oh, oh-oh_   
>  _For all of the times I never could_   
>  _All of the times I never could_

With one last deep breath, he steeled himself and plastered a pleasant smile on his face and opened the door to your room.

“Hey, Doll,” he murmured, eyes fixed on your catatonic form on the hospital bed. “I brought your favorite flowers,” he whispered as he approached your bed. He replaced the old, dried flowers with new ones then took a seat in the chair beside your bed; the same one he sat in every day he visited. His hand came up to grip yours gently, carefully avoiding the numerous wires and tubes hooked up to your unconscious form.

You were getting skinnier and more fragile by the day, but to Bucky you were just as beautiful as the day you’d met.

“I love you, Babydoll. Please wake up soon,” he murmured, placing a tender kiss to your forehead as his thumb gently caressed your knuckles.

He leaned forward, resting his head on your bed, your fingertips grasped gently in his own, and closed his eyes, falling into a blessedly dreamless sleep by your side.


End file.
